


Unintended

by kbs_was_here



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Lucy!Quinn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-23 00:16:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kbs_was_here/pseuds/kbs_was_here
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Lucy never made the transition to Quinn. Faberry via Rucy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

" _I just hate them, I hate school, I hate everything!" Lucy's only twelve and she's having a breakdown. Life sucks, people suck, everything sucks._

_Her dad sits next to her on the couch, the shoulder of his shirt damp where she's been crying on it. Her glasses sit on the coffee table, dirty and streaked with tears._

_He's silent for a moment, as if he's not sure what to say. Which is weird, because her dad always has an answer for everything. "Well, kiddo, what would make you feel better?"_

_She wipes the back of a hand over her eyes. "Being able to kick them in the face."_

_Russell's arm tightens around her and his body shakes with what she eventually realizes is laughter._

" _Daddy, I'm serious!"_

_That just makes him laugh even more. She squirms to break from his embrace, annoyed that he thinks this is all so funny. He lets go, but he snatches up her glasses before she can pick them up, and the he rubs away the streaks and smudges with a clean tissue._

" _I know you are, Luce." He hands over the glasses and kisses the side of her head._

_The next morning, after her dad's left for work, she finds half a dozen martial arts brochures sitting on the counter, along with a Post-It that says, "Pick one."_

_She's always been close with her dad and he's always been able to make her feel safe and special._

_Which is why it will be incredibly devastating when he kicks her out on a cold November night during her sophomore year of high school._

_-_

Lucy's always been a loner.

It's taken her a while to embrace it, but she's more comfortable now that it's by choice instead of default.

When she looks at the rest of the student population, she sees people scrambling to fit in, to be part of something, which is totally human. But it's also kind of pointless, because in less than a year, she'll be gone and graduated from McKinley and dumped into an even bigger pool of people who have no fucking clue what they're doing with themselves or their lives.

People like Finn Hudson, who's good at football and playing the drums, but seemingly has no skills that will carry him outside the city boundaries of Lima.

People like Tina Cohen-Chang, who is probably good at a lot of stuff, but can't seem to stop staring at her boyfriend's body long enough to express an interest in anything else.

People like Noah Puckerman, who actually might get out of Lima, but only if the Allen county jail is overcrowded.

Actually, Puck has potential, but it's hard to see it. Especially as long as he has that stupid haircut. It's not that mohawks are bad, it's that his has gotten to the point where it looks like a dead animal resting on his head.

"'Sup, Fabray. Give any thought to my offer?" He drops his tray on the table and lowers into the seat across from her. This is weird, because he usually spends the lunch period with his friends and they're not really in that place.

"Declined." Lucy's hair hangs in her face as she continues to read her copy of Slaughterhouse-Five.

"Don't you need shit for college applications?"

"I do. I also have plenty."

"Does chess club even count?

"It actually does, even though I'm not in it." She momentarily gives up on reading the book and sets it on the table, pages splayed, face-down. "Not since freshman year, anyway."

He's been after her to join the stupid glee club, which she first thought was just one of his many attempts to flirt with her. It's something he does regularly, even though he knows she's totally into girls. And, at this point, it's just the way they relate. He's not the brightest guy, but he knows when he has a chance in hell with a girl, and Lucy's made it clear that he is not at all her type.

Even though she's not super social, there's no point hiding who she is, for a variety of reasons. But it's also kind of hard to hide something when it's the thing that left you homeless in the tenth grade.

Getting kicked out at least made her a blip on the McKinley High radar. Not that she wanted to be one. It was easier to get through the day when no one knew who she was, so they weren't able to make fun of her.

Though, by then, she was already distanced from that girl she used to be in middle school.

Taking tae kwon do had given her a physical activity, something to tone the baby fat. It also gave her focus for all her angry energy, so she felt better about, like, life. Her braces came off during freshman year and resulted in a makeout session with Brittany Pierce, which actually led to Lucy tutoring Brittany in Spanish the following year.

Her mother insisted she be fitted for contacts when she started high school, but Lucy rarely ever wears them. She's always preferred the bulky barrier of her glasses between herself and the rest of the world. The same goes for her clothes, the jeans and t-shirts, the plaid shirt like the one she has on today. She likes to be covered up, she prefers when people don't see her.

"Come on, don't you want to hang out with actual people?" Puck asks, through a mouthful of burger.

"You mean like you?" She pushes her hair out of her face (it falls forward a lot more, ever since she decided to go for a change and cut it shorter) and considers that he's actually being genuine and not asking about lesbian sex positions.

"Britt's in it, you know."

She knows. So is Santana. She can't stand Santana. She's head cheerleader and she's a total bitch. "Not really into the showtunes."

"We do a lot more than that."

"So, what? Did Rachel tell you she'd put out if you recruited more members or what?" Rachel's the captain or whatever, Lucy knows that much. She actually knows a lot about Rachel, because she's on the school paper and it's kind of her job to know about the people who make up the population of McKinley. And Rachel's not exactly quiet about her involvement in school activities, particularly glee club.

Puck laughs. "No. But that's a good idea." He chugs down half a bottle of orange Gatorade. "We just need a certain number of members if we want to compete. And I think you'd be good."

"Desperate, you mean." Lucy picks at the macaroni and cheese on her own tray.

"Just come check it out. And if you hate it, I'll leave you alone."

Lucy's seen the club perform at assemblies. They're not bad. They're actually pretty good. And Rachel's really talented. Like, she'll definitely get out of this crap town. "Swear?"

"Yeah." Puck nods.

"Whatever." Lucy picks her book back up. "When?"

"After last period, in the choir room." He's actually grinning at her, like he's accomplished something.

"Fine. One time."

"Cool." Puck rips open his bag of chips and holds it out to Lucy. As she takes one, he asks, "So, made out with any hotties, lately?"

Despite Puck's constant inquiries about her personal life, Lucy's not any kind of lesbian stud. She's only made out with a few girls and had exactly one girlfriend. The relationship began and ended at computer camp, meaning it lasted exactly two weeks and consisted mostly of conversations over lunch about the latest World of Warcraft expansion pack.

It doesn't matter, anyway. This is her senior year and she's not about to waste time worrying about something that's so unnecessary. Would it be nice to have a girlfriend? Definitely. Is it likely? Not really.

She just wants to make it through to graduation so she can move on to college, hopefully in New York, if she gets either of her top two choices. Lima's already in the rear view and she's not about to actively change that course for anyone.

When she gets to the empty choir room, she's early and she considers bailing, because this whole thing is so stupid. She doesn't sing, she doesn't perform in any capacity. Not in public, anyway. She does know how to play piano, because she's taken lessons and, outside of tae kwon do, it's a way she's learned to express herself. But it's something that only ever happens at home, in her room, with her keyboard.

Ever since she moved back home, after her parents divorced, her time there is almost always spent in her bedroom. Her mother doesn't make any extra effort to talk to her and she doesn't really care about conversing with her mom when the woman is drunk, which is most of the time.

She's accustomed to the plastic keys of her Casio, so when she presses down on the keys of the piano in choir room she has to compensate for the change in pressure, but it's a quick adjustment. Her fingers work out the chorus to the most recent Dresden Dolls song she's learned and she smiles a little at the rich sound of the instrument.

Halfway through the first chorus of Good Day, she realizes she's kind of singing along and abruptly stops everything she's doing to look behind her. No one's there, but then the door opens and Rachel Berry enters.

The girl stops in the doorway for a moment, then continues toward the piano. Her fashion sense this year a little more mature than the first three years of high school. Lucy notices, because she's also on yearbook staff and she's taken plenty of pictures of Rachel (as well as other people, she's not a stalker). She kind of misses the familiarity of the knee socks and plaid skirts, but Rachel looks good in the dresses and skirts she's been wearing this year. Then she wonders if it's weird that she knows so much about this girl's clothes when they've never really had a conversation.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your practice time, but glee club has this room for the next hour." Rachel places her books on a chair near the piano.

"I wasn't practicing. I mean, I'm here for... I told Puck I'd come by."

Rachel straightens up and smiles. "Are you considering joining the New Directions?"

"I..." Lucy isn't. But with the way this girl is looking at her, it kind of makes her want to reconsider.

"You'll have to audition." A paper with assorted rehearsal times is shoved in Lucy's face. "But as long as you can successfully carry a tune, we can find a place for you."

"I was really just planning to sit in today." Lucy senses the slight disappointment that rolls off of Rachel.

"Sure, of course."

For some reason, she wants Rachel to smile, so she says, "I thought I'd do an article on New Directions."

That does the trick. "Really?" Suddenly, Rachel's sitting next to her on the bench. "What do you need to know?"

Crap. Now she needs an angle.

Fortunately, she's saved by Puck, who slaps her on the back. "Sweet! You didn't bone out on me."

"Lucy's doing an article on us for the school paper," Rachel says, turning to face Puck.

"Is she?" Puck looks down at Lucy, but she rises from the bench and evens out his glare.

"I'm just going to go sit in the back."

"Let me know if you need anything," Rachel calls after her.

"I'm sure she will," replies Puck.

Lucy doesn't have to turn to look at him to know there's a huge smirk on his face. This is so stupid. She should have just gone home.

Now she has to sit here for an hour and watch Rachel boss around a group of amateur performers and pretend like there's a story in it.

It's not the absolute worst. She could be watching the football team bash each other's heads in. Or the Cheerios sweating until they pass out (which is not as appealing as it sounds).

At the end of the rehearsal, she's not obligated to join anything and she's holding a piece of paper with Rachel's phone number on it and explicit instructions to call her if she needs any further information for her article. The one that she now has to write and convince her editor to put in the paper.

Not the worst. Maybe not ideal. But definitely not the worst.


	2. Chapter 2

It's Friday night and, as usual, Lucy doesn't have any plans beyond spending time with her Netflix subscription and even that isn't keeping her attention. Instead, she's lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, tossing this squishy happy face thing she got from her therapist's office up in the air. The happy face thing is supposed to be for stress and she's willing to admit that it's certainly working, but that's because she gave it a Sharpie mustache and glued googly eyes on it.

She can't stop thinking about this article she said she'd write, because she feels compelled to at least attempt it. But she really, honestly, could not care less about the stupid glee club. Maybe she just doesn't know enough about it. That's at least inspiration for her to roll over onto her stomach and open her laptop.

Once Facebook is launched in a tab, she immediately pulls up the club's page, but it doesn't really tell her anything. It looks like Rachel makes most, if not all, of the posts, so Lucy navigates to her page, but it's locked down to 'friends only' so she can only see Rachel's main profile picture (an honest to goodness headshot) and instructions to send any inquiries about casting to Rachel's email address.

Out of boredom and, perhaps, desperation, Lucy clicks the 'add friend' button and is ready to leave it at that, but almost instantly, she's notified that her request has been accepted.

Lucy chuckles to herself, because it looks like even the great and talented Broadway-bound Rachel Berry, star of the McKinley High New Directions, is at home on a Friday night, logged in to Facebook. It's also possible it was just a coincidence, maybe a fluke in timing.

And then she gets the chat notification.

**Rachel B. Berry: Hello?**

It's practically a double take, the look Lucy gives her own computer, but what the hell. It's not like she has other plans.

**Lucy Fabray: Hey.**

**Rachel B. Berry: Hi. :) How is your Friday evening?**

**Lucy Fabray: Pretty standard. Yours?**

**Rachel B. Berry: Rehearsing and family time.**

**Rachel B. Berry: Well, it was family time until Daddy rolled his ankle during charades. Now Dad is making him relax and watch The Man Who Would Be King.**

**Lucy Fabray: Oh. Sounds like a busy night.**

**Rachel B. Berry: :)**

**Rachel B. Berry: How's the article coming along?**

**Lucy Fabray: Well... I actually need to talk to you about that.**

**Rachel B. Berry: Oh? Would you perhaps be interested to meet and discuss it?**

Maybe it would be better to tell Rachel, in person, that the story isn't happening. Plus, it means she doesn't have to do it tonight.

**Lucy Fabray: Um, sure.**

**Rachel B. Berry: Great! :) :) The Lima Bean? In about twenty minutes?**

**Rachel B. Berry: Is that enough time or are you busy with something?**

**Rachel B. Berry: I should have asked that first, I suppose.**

Lucy can't think of a reason why she can't just go meet Rachel, because she has nothing else going on. Just like always.

**Lucy Fabray: See you there.**

When Lucy parks her car in one of the available spots in the Lima Bean parking lot, Rachel's already walking toward the entrance of the coffee shop, but she stops when she sees Lucy exiting the red Volkswagen bug and changes her trajectory to meet the girl at her car.

"Hello." Rachel smiles at her, then eyes the stickers that Lucy's used to claim the vehicle as her own ever since she inherited it from her sister. She's particularly fond of the zombie family decals in the back window, which is where Rachel's eyes linger before they move over to phrases like 'I Aim to Misbehave' and 'Frak Off'. "I've seen this car at school," she says. "I always wondered who it belonged to."

"Oh." Lucy shrugs and shifts her bag on her shoulder. "Well, it's mine."

Rachel nods. "So it is." As they walk toward the coffee shop, she asks, "Are you generally politically involved?"

"I... what?" It's really just out of nowhere and Lucy isn't sure where this is leading.

"You seem to have such a strong stance on oil," Rachel gestures back toward the car. "The frakking."

"Oh," Lucy laughs, pulling the door open so Rachel can pass through. "Um. No. That's from- I mean, I do have opinions about things. Politically. But that... it's from... uh, a show. That I like."

Rachel makes a sound that suggests she understands. "I appreciate when people showcase their interests, like that. It's important to take pride in what you love."

"Yeah," Lucy agrees.

The conversation halts as they both stare at the drink menu.

"I probably should stick to something caffeine free, since it's after eight," Rachel finally says. She steps up to the counter and places an order for an herbal tea.

Lucy orders a hot chocolate and by the time it's ready, Rachel's already secured them a table and it isn't until she sits down and sees Rachel with a binder open in front of her, that she remembers why they're even having this meeting.

"So, I've brought an itemized selection of highlights from the run of the New Directions over the last couple of years. I know you didn't say you needed assistance, but, if we're being honest, I probably know a lot more about the club than anyone else, so I just want-"

"-uh, Rachel?"

"-to be able... what?"

"If we really are being honest..." Lucy doesn't want to to ruin this, because they're kind of having a good time and it's the first Friday she's spent out of the house in ages. Not to mention, Rachel seems like she could talk about this, all night. She seems like she could talk about it forever, actually. Rachel Berry is always going, never stopping, powering through every single day, just so she can realize her dream of leaving Lima for New York. "I'm not doing a story on the New Directions."

"You... aren't?" Rachel's face falls. She almost looks like she's about to take a slushie to the face.

And Lucy realizes exactly what needs to happen, in order to fix this. "I'm not. But I really would like to... er, I am actually planning... working on... a story about you."

"Me?"

"Yeah." It's total bullshit. Or, it was a second ago. But the more Lucy thinks about it, the more it makes sense. "You're..." She glances down at the binder, the one that's now closed. The one with the big yellow star on the cover. "... McKinley's rising star."

That seems to strike a chord in Rachel. "I certainly aspire to be one of Lima, Ohio's most notable natives. I've already tried to add my name to the Lima Wikipedia page, but it always gets immediately edited out."

"See?" Lucy says. "You're driven, you're talented... what better story than an inside scoop on Rachel Berry as she says goodbye to Ohio and hello to New York?" This actually isn't bad. It's possible she could pitch this to her editor. It's not going to end up on the front page, but even a column about this might be doable.

And it would mean spending more time with Rachel. Which is something Lucy didn't know she wanted, until right now.

"It would make for a rather enlightening human interest piece," Rachel agrees. For a moment, she's staring into the space over Lucy's head, likely imagining the student body reading about her own trials and successes, finding themselves motivated and leading better lives. "Oh, but," she snaps out of the apparent daydream and frowns at the notebook in front of her. "I was prepared to discuss the club, not myself. I mean, I can obviously discuss my own merits without notes, but had I known, I would have brought some selections from the working draft of my memoir."

"It's okay," Lucy places a gentle hand right on top of the gold star. "Tonight we can just... get to know each other. It'll be, you know, informal."

"Right, okay." There's a nod from Rachel and she's looking down at the binder, then back at Lucy.

"Oh," Lucy says, quickly lifting up her hand so Rachel can stuff the notebook back in her bag. She busies herself with adjusting her glasses and there's a sudden wave of self consciousness because this kind of feels like a date, even though it isn't. But maybe she should have changed her shirt before rushing over here. "Um, how's the tea?"

"It's good!" Rachel picks up the cup and sips the drink, almost as if to confirm the goodness of it.

"Sorry," it's probably worse to address it, but Lucy really doesn't have a ton of experience being out with someone like Rachel Berry. "Maybe I'm not the greatest at informal."

"Oh, it's okay. We just need an icebreaker." Rachel places her cup back on the table and after a thoughtful look, she says, "What are your life goals?"

"Is that... supposed to be an easy question?" Then again, it kind of is. "Actually, okay. Yeah, um, to get out of here. I want to get into a good school, out of state. Hopefully, Columbia."

"Columbia University?"

"Yeah. So, you know, if you follow your dream and I manage to get mine, maybe we'll be neighbors."

That makes Rachel smile. "It would be nice to know someone else in the city."

"Yeah, it would."

"What do you want to study?"

"Literature? I don't know. That's what I like. But... I don't know what I'd do with that. And an English degree is just so... generic."

"You seem to be a seasoned journalist," Rachel offers.

"Are you kidding? You had to come up with the topic for this conversation."

"Yes, but your nose for news is impeccable."

"You just think that because I'm writing about you." Maybe it's flirting, what's happening, right now. Maybe it's just Lucy, wishing it was flirting.

"Possibly." The way Rachel smiles at her from behind her cup of tea, however, suggests maybe it isn't just one-sided.

Before there's a chance to find out, Lucy's phone rings and the tone is Muse's Stockholm Syndrome, which means it's her mother calling. "Um, that's my mom, I should... take it."

Rachel nods and busies herself with her own phone and checking her Facebook.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?"

"Mom, I went out. I told you." Lucy turns away from the table as she speaks.

"Where?"

"To get coffee with someone."

"You should come home."

"It's not even nine."

"Lucy."

"Mom, I'm just..." It won't really matter, because Lucy knows that no matter what time she gets home, her mother will be drunk and probably passed out. The chances of her remembering any of this in the morning are slim to none. But, if she happens to actually recall anything from tonight, she doesn't need her mom being pissed at her. "Let me say goodbye to my friend."

There's a click and the call is over.

When she turns back around, she's met with Rachel's concerned gaze, but the other girl quickly looks back down at her phone. "I wasn't prying..."

"It's fine." Lucy shakes her head.

"Is everything all right?"

"It's fine," she repeats, picking up her bag and scooting her chair back from the table. "I'll call you. Or Facebook you. And we can talk about this more, okay?"

"Okay." Rachel looks a little lost, possibly unsure as to whether or not she's being ditched. It dawns on Lucy that maybe this is something that's happened to her, before.

"I had a really great time," Lucy says as she stands. "Even if it wasn't... very long." She feels compelled to reassure Rachel, even more. "Tomorrow. I'll call you."

Rachel nods and even smiles. "Goodnight, Lucy."

"Goodnight."

The drive home leaves Lucy with butterflies in her stomach, but they quickly dissipate when she enters the house to find her mother asleep in front of the television. She could have stayed out with Rachel and it wouldn't have mattered.

She unfolds the throw blanket on the back of the couch and tosses it over the sleeping form, but when she reaches for the remote to turn down the volume on the tv, Judy wakes enough to swat her hand away.

"I'm watching it."

"Fine. I'm going to bed."

"Thought you were out with a friend."

Lucy doesn't want to argue, to explain to her mother that she was the one who told her to come home. "Well, I'm back." In order to avoid any further conversation, she hurries up the stairs and shuts herself in her room.

This sucks.

On the bright side, when she pulls up her Facebook page, there's notification that she's been tagged in a post made by Rachel B. Berry that says, "Best Friday night out in a while - with Lucy Fabray."

She clicks the Like button and falls asleep to an episode of  _Firefly_.

Best Friday night out in a while, indeed.


	3. Chapter 3

Lucy wakes up around nine. As she brushes her teeth, she looks at her hair and thinks maybe she wants a change. She likes the cut, but it's the color that's getting to her. It's just boring old brown. She doesn't dare say anything to her mother about this, though, because Judy's been after her to go blonde, ever since she started high school. Everyone else in her family is blonde and, personally, Lucy's taken pride in the fact that it's a visual indicator that she stands out from them. So, no blonde. But something else would be nice.

There's also the fact that she doesn't know anyone who does hair, she doesn't really want to pay to have it done professionally, and she doesn't want to do it herself because she's kind of terrified of ruining everything.

She shuffles downstairs and pours herself a bowl of chocolate Chex while she waits for the Keurig machine to brew a cup of coffee. There's orange juice left that hasn't yet been claimed for a mimosa, so she drinks half a glass of that before carrying her bowl and mug back upstairs and shutting herself in her bedroom.

Her computer has barely even come out of sleep mode when her Facebook chat pops open.

**Rachel B. Berry: Good morning! :)**

Lucy crunches her way through a mouthful of Chex as she awkwardly types out a reply with one hand as she balances her cereal bowl bowl in the other.

**Lucy Fabray: Hey.**

**Rachel B. Berry: How is your Saturday morning, so far?**

**Lucy Fabray: Just got up, actually. Guess it's okay.**

**Rachel B. Berry: :)**

Lucy clicks Rachel's and see several updates from this morning, timestamped as early as two hours ago.

**Lucy Fabray: I take it you've been up for a while?**

**Rachel B. Berry: Yes! :) I get up at five on school days and six-thirty on the weekend. I have a very vigorous daily routine that include exercise, a facial regimen, hair care, and specific dietary supplementation.**

**Rachel B. Berry: Don't worry about taking notes, it's all in my memoir. :)**

**Lucy Fabray: Okay.**

She really does need to figure out what this article is going to be and how she plans to make it happen. She also really wants to spend more time with Rachel.

**Lucy Fabray: Is your day already scheduled or would you have time to meet up with me?**

**Rachel B. Berry: I actually happen to have today open. :) Would you like to come over?**

She was thinking another coffee house meeting, not an invitation Rachel's home. Or maybe she's just misunderstanding something.

**Lucy Fabray: To your house?**

**Rachel B. Berry: Yes. I'm sure my fathers would love to have you over for lunch. They jump at any chance to entertain.**

And now it's a lunch date.

**Lucy Fabray: Okay, sure. I just need to get ready.**

**Rachel B. Berry: Of course! :) :)**

**Lucy Fabray: I'll see you in about an hour, maybe?**

**Rachel B. Berry: Okay.**

**Lucy Fabray: Rachel?**

**Rachel B. Berry: Yes?**

**Lucy Fabray: I need your address.**

Lucy showers and frets over her hair color again as she towel dries it in front of the mirror. She makes a face at herself and lets the mirror steam back up as she exits the room to go get dressed. It's just a casual Saturday at someone's house and she's never been one to care too much about fashion, but she still spends ten minutes deciding between "Rock, Paper, Scissors, Lizard, Spock" or the one with a Cylon on it and then covers it up with a blue and black flannel shirt, anyway.

She steps back into the bathroom to at least comb out her hair and put something in it so it isn't an absolute mess, then she's tying her low tops and grabbing her car keys and heading out the front door before her mother has a chance to catch her. It's before ten, so she's probably still in bed. Lucy left a note in the kitchen, taped to the Keurig, saying she'll be gone more of the day for a school project. Usually, if she claims something is for school, Judy leaves her alone.

Actually, Judy leaves her alone just about all the time, until she suddenly decides her daughter should be home and that's just about always at the most inconvenient times for Lucy. Like last night.

But for now, it's Saturday morning and Lucy is free to roam about Lima.

It turns out that 241 Birch Hill Road isn't that far from Lucy's house and even with the extra detour she took when she turned down the wrong street, it only takes about fifteen minutes for her to get there. It's only after she rings the doorbell that she wonders if she should have brought her computer or even a notebook, because she's supposed to be interviewing Rachel for an article. Then again, Rachel probably has an entire informational packet prepared.

The door opens and she's looking up at a tall man with glasses.

"Um, hi. Mr. Berry? I'm here to see Rachel?"

"Yes, I've been hearing about you all morning, assuming you're the Lucy that Rachel's been-"

"Dad!" Rachel's elbowing her way past her father and reaching for Lucy's hand.

"Right, yes. I've done the embarrassing dad thing, so why don't you just come in." He smiles at Lucy and moves aside so she can enter. "And please, call me Hiram."

"Thank you," Lucy calls out, over her shoulder as she's pulled upstairs by Rachel.

"They were supposed to have left to go antiquing, already." Rachel says. "Sorry."

"It wasn't that bad, really." Lucy actually doesn't have that much experience meeting other people's parents. The last time she met someone else's family like this was when she first went to the Evans house to visit Sam, last year, and that just was his younger brother and sister, because both of his parents were always working.

They're standing in Rachel's room, which kind of looks like something right out of an IKEA showroom. For some reason, Lucy expected more glamour and maybe a marquee with Rachel's name on it. But it's a regular room.

"Would you like something to drink?" Rachel asks. "I have room temperature water up here," she runs a hand over her throat, "because that's what's best for my voice. But I can also get you something from the kitchen, if you'd like."

"Water's fine, thank you." She watches Rachel pour the water from a filtered pitcher into two stemmed glasses. It's so over-the-top, this presentation, and yet it feels so very  _Rachel_. Or... that's what Lucy thinks, anyway. They've only been speaking to each other for about twenty four hours.

Rachel passes her a glass and holds her own up in an honest-to-goodness toast. "To life's successes."

Lucy laughs, but not at Rachel, just at the sheer boldness of the way she presents herself without caring. "Okay. To... life's successes." She clinks her glass against Rachel's and sips the water.

"Please, have a seat." Rachel gestures at what seems like the entire room, so Lucy has no idea where she's supposed to actually sit.

She decides the padded bench at the foot of Rachel's bed looks like a good candidate, so she sits and holds her water glass in both hands. "I like your room."

"Thank you. It's soundproofed."

The revelation leaves Lucy with her mouth hanging open as she processes what she's just been told. "It..."

"The neighbors used to complain about my singing, even though Daddy explained that, in order for me to make the necessary advancements I need to achieve my goal of performing on Broadway, I have to be able to rehearse at any hour of the day." Rachel joins Lucy on the bench. "Ultimately, it was determined that the cost of soundproofing the room was significantly less than a lawsuit. Now I can practice whenever I want."

"That's good. You need to be able to practice. And from what I've heard, you're very good."

"Thank you," Rachel beams at her in appreciation. Her hand rests on Lucy's knee as she seems to suddenly recall something. "You know, I know you only came to our glee club meeting for your article, but are you sure there isn't any way I could persuade you to join us?"

"I..." Lucy shrugs. "I don't really like being in front of people."

"We could always put you in the back," Rachel offers. She's so sincere about it that Lucy is finding it increasingly difficult to resist.

"I thought I had to audition."

"Oh, well, you do. You could do it now," Rachel says, smiling at her.

"Uh, no." Lucy shakes her head. "That's even more awkward."

"Sorry, I forget that not everyone cares to express themselves through song."

"It's okay." There it is, again, that internal pull that Lucy feels, the one that makes her want to see Rachel happy. "Maybe I'll come back by the club on Monday. Or... do you even meet on Mondays?"

Rachel nods, excitedly. "Yes, we do. And we'd love to have you."

"Okay." Lucy finds herself biting her lip because she suddenly feels very shy.

Fortunately, Rachel breaks the ice by asking if she wants to see the powerpoint she's prepared about the early stages of her performance career.


	4. Chapter 4

Rachel's presentation is basically a long and involved slideshow of pageants and recitals from, as she refers to it, "The Early Years" and it basically covers birth through kindergarten. Apparently, age six is when Rachel began taking voice lessons and that begins an entirely new era, with its own dedicated collection of photos, videos, and audio recordings.

The Berry fathers returned home from their trip to the antique shop circuit about a half an hour ago and, just as Rachel's delivering her closing speech, there's a knock from the hallway, even though the bedroom door is open.

"Excuse me, ladies," begins a deep male voice, but not the same one that belongs to Hiram, "but as we're having BLTs for lunch, I'm required to ask if our guest would like actual bacon or manufactured soy stuff and... I was about to introduce myself, but I believe already know you. Lucy, right?"

"Yeah," she nods and returns the wave to the man in the doorway.

"How do you know Daddy?" Rachel asks. From the look on her face, this is a total surprise to her.

Rachel's looking at her father, but he nods to Lucy, because this is her information to share, if she cares to share it at all.

"When I... when my parents kicked me out, I spent the night at the teen center before I moved in with my sister. Dr. Hamilton was one of the counselors for my peer group."

Rachel doesn't say anything for a moment, possibly because she's unable to imagine what it must be like to have parents who would deny her a place to live. Or who would deny her anything, really. "I'm so sorry that happened."

Lucy shakes her head. "It was two years ago. It's fine, now."

"It's technically Dr. Hamilton-Berry, but around here, it's just Leroy. And you've still left the most important question unanswered," Leroy says. When Lucy looks back at him with her brow furrowed, he asks, "Bacon?"

* * *

"So, Lucy." Hiram asks from his seat at the head of the kitchen table as he passes her a plate of actual bacon. "How's the love life?"

"Dad!" Rachel looks mortified. "Do not answer him," she instructs Lucy. "He thinks he's funny and he isn't."

"I'm highly amused," Leroy chimes in.

Lucy laughs as she stacks her sandwich together. "It's okay, Rachel. It's not really much of a topic."

"She's tricky." Hiram points at Lucy before picking up his BLT. "Just like that Taylor Swift."

As much as Rachel just reprimanded her father, she tilts her head at Lucy. "Are you seeing anyone?"

Lucy has a mouthful of BLT, so the most she can do is shake her head.

"I apologize for my family's lack of boundaries," Leroy says, smiling at Lucy. "Love life aside, is everything else all right?"

It takes a moment and a swallow of Diet Dr. Pepper before Lucy can answer. "Everything's okay. I moved back home a few months after it all happened. My mom isn't the best about it, but she's definitely hasn't completely checked out of my life like my dad. Are you still at the center? Because I meet with Dr. Bishop on Thursdays."

"I am, but I volunteer on Mondays and Wednesdays."

"Well," Lucy nods and manages a smile. "That explains why I haven't seen you there."

"Glad to hear you're doing well. And it's nice to know that Rachel's making friends like you."

"We're..." Lucy has no idea if she and Rachel can even be classified as friends, "really just getting to know each other." She casts a hopeful glance across the table to Rachel and she's met with a wide grin.

"Lucy's writing a piece about me," Rachel announces. "It'll be in the school paper and likely on the website, because that's where they put most of the human interest articles."

Oh crap. This is even more pressure to make sure the story actually runs. And Lucy never said anything about the website.

"Oh?" Hiram asks. "So you're a journalist? This is a good one to have on your side, Racheala."

"I'm on the staff for the Muckraker, yeah. But-" She wants to explain that there still isn't any guarantee about this article, but Rachel jumps back in.

"She's also on the yearbook staff." There's a pause while Rachel squints as if she's trying to recollect something and then she recalls it. "Actually, weren't you the one who made room for the glee club photo, sophomore year?"

Lucy nods, surprised Rachel even remembers it was her. "It was really just a matter of space management. They blow out the margins for a lot of clubs and it wasn't fair for you guys to be relegated to quarter page just so the stupid Cheerios could have four full pages." She hates the Cheerios with a passion. They're all just so terrible and bitchy and everything she can't stand.

"Well, I certainly appreciate that you put forth the effort. Otherwise it would have just been a picture of me, which I'm certainly fine with, but it's much better for club morale to feature all members in such a photo." Rachel primly lifts her sandwich to her lips and takes a bite.

"It hasn't been an issue since then, so I'm glad I was able to help... with the morale and everything." Lucy glances at Leroy, who's stifling a laugh behind his glass.

This is nothing like her family meals at home.

She loves it.

* * *

Another two hours of her Saturday afternoon are spent enduring a second presentation from Rachel, until Hiram informs them that it's almost time for the family to leave to visit Rachel's grandmother.

"Thanks for taking the time to show me all of that," Lucy says. It's actually all rather interesting, seeing how Rachel's entire life has been engineered to guide her toward her life's goal.

"I don't think anyone's ever sat through an entire segment, let alone two." Rachel closes her laptop. "Jesse was much more attentive than Finn, but even he eventually kept interjecting to challenge my performance milestones with his own."

"Those were your boyfriends, right?" Lucy doesn't really need to ask for confirmation, though.

Rachel nods. "Finn was... sweet, but he has no personal motivation to be anything. Jesse was the complete opposite, which was fun because he challenged me. But then he also ended up being..." Her tone completely shifts and she shrugs as she sits next to Lucy on the bed, so she can slip on her shoes. "He wasn't who I thought he was, I suppose."

This is a story Lucy doesn't know. "Did he hurt you?" She suddenly concerned and overwhelmed with the need to possibly punch this Jesse guy in the face.

When Rachel nods, Lucy's ready to ask for his address, but then she hears, "He broke my heart. But I certainly gained plenty of songwriting material from my pain." She straightens up and adjusts her headband. "It also led me to my current belief that dating is really just a distraction, which is why I spent my junior year completely boyfriend free."

Lucy can't stop herself. "So did I."

"I thought you w- Oh!" Rachel laughs. "Are you dating anyone, by the way?"

"No, not really. I mean, at all. There was one girl, last summer, but it didn't last very long. And I've never... we didn't..." Lucy doesn't know why she even started with the second part, because she could have easily just stopped speaking.

"Are you saying you've never... you're a virgin?"

Lucy feels the heat creep up her ears and she wants to just cover her face with her hands, but she settles for staring at the floor and nodding. "Yeah," she manages, while silently condemning herself for even bringing this up, because this is probably one of the most embarrassing conversations she's voluntarily put herself in.

"It's okay," Rachel says, delicately wrapping her hand over the one Lucy has tightly gripped against the edge of the mattress. "I am, too. I will be until I'm twenty-five." She sounds proud of it, like it's another one of her achievements. Except it's an un-achievement.

Lucy wonders if Rachel gives herself a gold star for every night that passes without losing her virginity. "That's... a while from now."

"I figure it's enough time for me to win my first Tony. It's also a great way to make sure I'm not derailed from the track of success by something like an unwanted pregnancy."

"That would really probably put a damper on things for you." Lucy feels like maybe her face isn't quite on fire, anymore, and brings herself to look up at Rachel. "You really do have it all figured out."

"I have to," Rachel says. "It's the only way I'll make it."

When Lucy leaves, Leroy walks her to her car.

"It was lovely having you over, Lucy. Please feel free to come by, anytime."

"Thank you, Dr- er, Leroy. I'm hoping Rachel and I will be hanging out more. She's... nice." Leroy offers Lucy a look that suggests he knows more than Lucy's saying. Which is typical, given that he's a therapist. "We hardly know each other, but I'm really glad I'm getting the chance to know more about her."

"That's certainly a topic Rachel likes to discuss." Leroy places a gentle hand on Lucy's shoulder. "My daughter can be particularly focused on herself. I like that. I like knowing she won't let anything stop her. But I also know that it's easy for her to miss what's going on around her. If you're going to be friends, I just want you to know that, kiddo."

Lucy can tell there's some other advice buried in there, but she isn't sure just what she's supposed to extract from it. She also can't recall the last time anyone called her "kiddo." "I'll do my best to make sure she doesn't miss anything."

"Just make sure you don't, either."


	5. Chapter 5

Sunday morning, as always, is spent at church. Lucy's faith has always been important to her, but when her father kicked her out, it was clear that plenty of other people she'd known her entire life shared his opinions. After Lucy moved back home, it was part of her therapy to request that she and Judy work together to find a new church that would support both of their needs. It wasn't easy, but they settled on St. Philip's Episcopal Church of Lima, which wasn't too far off from their previous Lutheran worship experience, but also opened its doors to the LGBTQ community.

It was also where Lucy happened to first meet Sam Evans and his family. They're in Kentucky now, but she still considers him her best friend and they usually Skype a couple of times a week. Church isn't quite as fun without him sitting next to her, passing the bulletin back and forth with notes jotted in the empty space around the announcements and prayer requests.

When her laptop screen pops up a notification about in an incoming call, she's actually drafting an outline for her article about Rachel. She already has information overload and she still hasn't heard all about "The Middle School Saga" which is bound to be full of dramatic nuggets.

"Hey, beautiful," he says, once his face fills the screen.

Lucy rolls her eyes and pushes her hair out of her face as she fights a smile. She knows it's just the way he communicates, she knows he's fully aware that she's only into girls, and it's the fact that he genuinely means what he says that makes her wish she could actually be into him, because he's kind, sweet, and cute. He just also happens to be a guy and not at all her type. And they kind of look related, which could be awkward. It would be even worse if she'd realize her mother's dream of actually going blonde.

"Hey," she replies. "Hold on. I need to finish a sentence."

"Sure." He sips on some kind of brownish smoothie while he waits.

Lucy frowns. "Ew, what is that?"

"Peanut butter banana protein shake."

"What's wrong with just eating a banana and a peanut butter sandwich?"

"That wouldn't gross you out nearly as much. What are you working on?"

"An..." she hesitates, but she isn't sure why, really. "... thing for the paper."

He seems to pick up on it and raises his eyebrows. "And what's this 'an... thing' about?"

"Nothing." But then she can't seem to stop herself from offering up, "Rachel Berry." She knows he's aware of who she is, because he was in glee club while he was still at McKinley.

"Yeah?"

"Okay, what?"

"What do you mean what? I just said yeah."

"Yeah, but you said it like... something."

"Is there something?" He's fighting a smile, now.

"It's not... okay, maybe I like her."

"Rachel's pretty likeable."

"Yeah, she is."

"So are you."

"Whatever. Are we watching Caprica or what?"

Sam shakes his head. "You're impossible. Yeah, let me get Netflix opened up."

"Do you..." Lucy thinks twice before finishing her question, but then decides to go with it. It's just Sam, anyway. "Do you think she'd ever... like me?"

"Uh, I don't know. Does she like girls?"

"I have no idea. Sometimes it kind of feels like she's flirting with me. But that may be because she's a star performer and I'm a journalist."

"Oh man, that's got to be confusing."

"Yeah. I think I'm maybe just not exciting enough for her or something."

"Dude, I've watched you re-enact the entire scene where River Tam slaughters all the reavers. You're totally exciting."

"I doubt Rachel's into sci-fi."

"I don't know, she kind of has some crazy random knowledge about stuff."

"She thought my 'Frak Off' sticker was about oil."

"Then you obviously need to educate her. Just tell her that Broadway's already making shows based on comic book heroes, so the next step is the final frontier."

This is pointless and Lucy decides to change the subject. "I'm thinking about dying my hair."

"Your mom finally got to you?"

"No! I want, like, blue or something."

"Pieces or all of it?"

"Streaks. Or chunks. I don't know, I'm not a hair stylist. I need to find someone who actually knows what they're doing."

"Do it. It'll look awesome."

"I just said I don't know how."

"Find someone. Ask Rachel."

"Yeah, right. I mean, that's probably not the worst idea, because she'd probably take a crash beauty school online course or something."

"Yeah, she's kind of intense like that."

"She showed me these presentations, yesterday. Like, for hours."

"Of what?"

"Her."

Sam laughs. "And you don't think she likes you?"

"It was for the article! It was purely professional."

"Where were you when she showed you?"

"I was-" But the answer, as honest as it is, isn't helping her case. "-in her bedroom."

"Luce. Ask her out."

"What if she says no?"

"What if she says yes?"

Lucy isn't sure which answer makes her more nervous.

* * *

Her Monday is just like every other school day, with classes and avoiding all unnecessary human interaction whenever possible. Until she steps into the choir room.

She's greeted by the handful of members who are already present and she quickly plants herself in a chair toward the back so she can hide behind The Martian Chronicles. Or, she can pretend that's what she's doing. She's really watching for Rachel between glances at the words on the page.

When Rachel does arrive, Lucy's read the same sentence about six times ( _"We won't ruin Mars," said the captain. "It's too big and too good."_ ), and when they make eye contact, she feels her ears warm up, almost immediately. She wants to say something, to be casual and cool, but she can't even think of what she'd say, especially with everyone watching. Normally, Lucy isn't shy like this. Sure she doesn't like interacting with other people, but that's just because she has nothing to say to them. This is so different. She's not used to trying to impress someone.

"Lucy Fabray. Girl, we need to talk." Mercedes Jones is suddenly sitting next to her and Lucy isn't actually sure when that happened.

"Um, okay? About what?"

"A little bird disclosed to us that you're in the market for a makeover," Kurt Hummel says, from the opposite side and this is just weird, because he's tugging at her flannel shirt and eyeing her hair.

"You're scaring her," Mercedes says, shooing his hands away from Lucy. "Sam told me you need someone who can do hair."

Lucy knows Mercedes enough that they're Facebook friends, but only the kind who occasionally like each other's comments. They hung out a couple times at Sam's house, when he still lived in Lima and she definitely likes Mercedes, so maybe this could be a way to get to know her better.

"You do hair?"

"Oh, honey. No. He's your consultant on that." She points to Kurt, who now has his hands pressed together and resting against his lips as he takes in Lucy's appearance.

"So," he finally says, lowering his hands. "You want color."

Lucy nods. "Yeah, I was thinking something like, you know, uh, different."

"Mmhmm." Kurt sharply turns his head to look across the room. "Tina!"

Lucy isn't sure how to handle all these people evaluating her, offering advice on hair and clothes. She isn't used to it. It's almost too much, but then it all comes to a halt when Rachel calls the glee club to order so she can perform her selection for the week's current assignment.

Never in her life has Lucy been so grateful for Celine Dion.


	6. Chapter 6

When Lucy was younger, her sister used to play beauty parlor with her friends. Sometimes, if she was feeling generous (or if Russell had made it clear that Lucy was to be included), Frannie would let her join them while they pretended to paint each other's nails and brush each other's hair. During all of this, they would flip through Judy's magazines and talk about their fictional husbands. Right now feels a lot like back then, because she's still the outsider and Kurt's flipping through an issue of Vogue while Mercedes goes on about her new boyfriend.

They're in Kurt's bedroom with Kurt and Mercedes lounging on the bed while Lucy sits in a chair with Tina hovering over her, applying color to the parts of her hair that were bleached out less than an hour ago. Lucy's no longer terrified about her hair being chemically burned off of her head and she's relaxed considerably. It turns out Tina is something of a horror fan and, while that's further down Lucy's list of genre favorites, they're both engrossed in The Walking Dead, except Tina actually hasn't ever read the books, so they're making plans for Lucy to loan her Lucy's stack of graphic novels.

The color Lucy ultimately settled on is a bright pink. She isn't even really sure why, because pink isn't generally a color that she chooses in her wardrobe, but it's vibrant and good enough for Gwen Stefani, so she's game to try it.

"We need to talk about what you're wearing tomorrow," Kurt comments from behind his magazine.

"What's tomorrow?" Lucy asks.

The magazine drops and Kurt stares at her. "Your unveiling, darling."

"I... didn't know I was, uh, veiled."

"Lucy," Mercedes leans forward to contribute. "You're introducing the world to your new look. It's all about presentation."

Even Tina seems to be on be on board with this logic. "They're right. And it's your senior year. Don't you want to be remembered the way you choose for people to remember you?"

"I never thought about it, I guess. I kind of expect people to forget about me after graduation, actually."

Kurt's head bobs as if he understands where she's coming from. However, his personal take is different. "Not me. I want every last one of those ignorant idiots to remember me so that when I'm incredible and fabulous, they'll all regret every last slushie."

"Amen," Mercedes replies, raising her hand in the air.

Lucy would still rather just fade into the background. The hair color thing isn't about making a statement, it's just something she wants to do. But, maybe they're right. Maybe this is her chance to let everyone know that the quiet girl in the back of the classroom is actually someone the might want to get to know. Maybe she'll make some new friends.

She's already gained three new phone numbers in her contact list.

As much as Kurt wanted to put her in some outfit that hasn't even debuted in Paris, yet, Lucy's apparel for her "unveiling" the next morning is a lot like what she wears every other day. But she is wearing a brand new blue and white flannel from American Eagle over her favorite Captain America t-shirt. Her jeans are nothing special and her Chucks are the same black lowtops she wears every other day.

But she feels different, like she's actively presenting herself. It's something she never would have thought about until last night and as she walks down the hallway of McKinley High, she feels people looking at her and sees a few of them nodding and smiling, because they see her and they like her. It feels great.

And then it feels like an icy slap in the face. The cold is so shocking, she actually can't move for a few seconds. Her glasses are covered with blue slush and it's dripping off of them, as well as off of the rest of her. It's seeping through her shirt and slipping under her collar and it's freezing and sticky and she wishes she'd never left the house, this morning.

She's in the process of pulling off her glasses so she can try to wipe them off enough to see when someone grabs her by the arm and pulls her into the nearest bathroom. The door shuts and clicks locked behind them and that's when Lucy realizes she's been kidnapped by Santana Lopez and she's pretty sure she's about to be stabbed or humiliated to death or possibly both.

"What do you want?" Lucy asks, squinting at Santana.

Santana steps toward her and Lucy's ready to punch her in the throat if she needs to, but it turns out she's just reaching for the paper towel dispenser behind Lucy. "Here, you should get as much of it off your clothes before it sets." She runs a wad of the towels under the tap and hands it to Lucy. "You look like a cotton candy machine threw up on you."

Lucy wipes at her glasses with one of the paper towels, then looks at herself in the mirror. Santana isn't wrong. She also isn't alone. In the reflection, she sees Brittany Pierce standing behind them.

"I threw up cotton candy once. It was at the fair and I rode the Zipper with Santana and then puked all over. But I don't think it looked anything like this." Brittany runs her index finger through the slush that's still clinging to Lucy's shoulder.

Lucy's still shellshocked and also terribly confused, which means she apparently isn't moving fast enough for Santana, because now the cheerleader is pulling at Lucy's flannel. "Are you stealing my clothes?" she asks.

Santana rolls her eyes. "I already have to deal with enough Indigo Girls jokes without the 90's lesbian folk wardrobe. I'm serious about the staining, okay?" She stares Lucy down through their reflection in the mirror until Lucy relaxes her shoulders and allows Santana to take the shirt.

"Why are you being nice to me?" Lucy has spent her high school career not trusting this girl and she has no idea what's in play, right now.

"You're in glee club now, so we're a team." Santana looks expectantly at Lucy's t-shirt. "Come on. That, too."

"But then I'll... I won't have anything..." Lucy's arms cross over herself.

"It's just us, Prudy McPruderson. Nothing I haven't seen before." There's an impatient wave of the fingers and Lucy's certain that if she doesn't take her own shirt off, Santana will do it for her.

"But then all my clothes will be wet." Lucy argues, even though she's already surrenduring the t-shirt.

"Britts, go get something for the Pink Ranger to wear for the rest of the day."

"Okay, but only if she lets me see her pterodactyl later."

Santana locks the door behind Brittany, but not before she gives her a peck on the lips. When she turns back around, Lucy's facing away from the mirror with her arms protectively folded in front of her. "It sucks, I know. There's never a shortage of assholes at this school waiting to remind us that they're all still assholes."

"Yeah, that's why I'm nervous," Lucy replies. She still has no idea what's about to occur, now that they're alone without a witness.

"Okay, look. I know I've been a bitch in the past, but I'm trying to kind of change that. I was angry for a long time because I didn't let myself be who I was. And then there you were, being you and gay and not caring." Santana sighs and wrings out Lucy's shirt. "I really suck at this heart-to-heart shit and I don't even know you, but... no one deserves to be treated like crap. And slushies are a bitch to deal with."

Lucy gives herself a moment to consider what's being said. "So, you're not going to, like, cut out my heart and pin it to the activities board?"

"Not unless you try to steal my Britts from me."

"I... she's not really my type."

"Then you're blind, because she's fucking incredible."

Lucy doesn't know if she's supposed to agree or disagree. She opts to change the subject. "I like someone else."

"That wouldn't have anything to do with the way you were gawking over Rachel yesterday, would it? And lose the shocked expression, Pinky. Blind kids sewing Nikes together in Honduras could see that you're into her." There's a knock at the door and Lucy's spared from any further analogies as Santana lets Brittany back in. She's carrying a dry cleaning bag and in it is a fresh Cheerio's uniform. "Britt, she can't wear that. Coach would kill us. And her. She'd probably make us watch while she kills her, just so we'd know what was about to happen to us."

"But she's at that undisclosed location field testing our Nationals routine on Navy SEALS," Brittany explains. "We'll put it back and she'll never know."

Santana considers this, then takes the uniform and hands it to Lucy. "Here. Don't stain it, don't rip it, don't leave campus in it. And give me your pants."

"What? No. I'm keeping my pants."

"You want blue stains all over them?" Santana asks.

"... No."

"I have access to the laundry room behind the gym, because I'm Head Cheerio. I can wash all of this before the end of the day and then you'll give me the uniform back. Then we're even."

Lucy could argue that one act of kindness (sort of) doesn't outweigh years of conflict, but she really doesn't have a choice. "Whatever." She steps into a stall and pulls off her pants, then passes them over the top of the door.

"We'll meet you here right after last bell."

"But-"

Except Lucy already hears the door open and shut and she knows she's alone. She stares at the crisp uniform that hangs under the clear layer of plastic. There's no way it's going to fit. Even when it does, when it slips over her hips and zips into place without bursting at the seams, she can't bring herself to look in the mirror. She feels ridiculous and cold and naked. There's no way she can go out and face the rest of the student body, like this. Everyone will laugh, because Lucy Fabray is the furthest thing from a Cheerio to ever exist. She doesn't belong on a pyramid, she belongs in the back of a classroom or behind a camera. She has no business wearing the red, white, and black, let alone the split pleated skirt that she's positive showcases just how huge her thighs are.

There's no way she's leaving this bathroom, at all, in this outfit. She's just going to have to wait until Santana comes back with her clothes. If she comes back with her clothes.

And, since Lucy has some time to kill, there's no reason for her not to lock herself into one of the stalls and cry.


	7. Chapter 7

Lucy isn't even sure when or where she dropped her bag, all she knows is that it was somewhere between a slushie in face and Santana absconding with her into the bathroom. Right now, she knows there's no way in hell she's stepping outside into the hallway well she's wearing this uniform. She knows it isn't likely that anyone is going to use this bathroom at least through first period, so she takes advantage of the fact that she's alone to try and wash her sticky, slushied hair. It's harder than it looks because the sinks are shallow and not very big at all, so all she manages to accomplish is a half-assed rinse job, which she has to cut short the second she hears someone outside bathroom door.

She's quick to duck back into the stall to conceal herself before whoever it is enters the restroom. Her hair is dripping wet, she's cold, and she's incredibly embarrassed about everything that's happened since stepped into the hallway that morning and she definitely cannot even imagine facing someone else while she's in this state.

While she sits there, contemplating her misery, wishing her visitor away, she realizes said visitor is humming a tune she immediately recognizes. Carefully, she peeks out between the space between the stall door and the frame to try and identify the mystery hummer.

There, in front of the mirror is Rachel Berry.

She isn't sure if she's glad to see a familiar face or even more embarrassed, but regardless of how she feels, she sighs loudly enough for Rachel to silence herself and glance toward the stall.

"Hello?"

Lucy retracts from the gap and contemplates what to do. But it's not like she can run. "Uh, hi." She slides the lock and cracks the door open enough to look out.

Rachel's closer now, head cocked to the side. She kind of looks like someone in a horror movie who's about to have a cat jump out and scare them, because it's still too early on for the actual monster to make an appearance. "Lucy?"

"Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

"Um..." Lucy is really only getting to know Rachel, but she's pretty sure this girl doesn't give up very easily, so she surrenders to the reality of just opening the door all the way to reveal her current state. "Not really."

"Oh!" Rachel's hand is quick to cover her own mouth and she takes a step back as her eyes go wide. "Don't go anywhere."

"Wait," Lucy calls out, but Rachel's already turned around and heading out the door. She considers taking a look at her reflection, wondering if it's really that bad, but she can't bring herself to turn her head toward the mirror. If it's enough to send someone physically running away from her, she must look pretty awful.

It's right back into the stall for her and the sound of the lock slipping back into place feels like a prison sentence. Which it is, at least until Santana comes back with her clothes.

She's alone for another few minutes, but then the door opens again. This time, Lucy doesn't bother to try and see who it is. She doesn't care.

Not at first, anyway. But there's the sound of shuffling and a light thunk and whoever's out there is doing something more than just washing their hands or checking their eyeliner. She gives in and leans back forward to try and take a peek, but a shadow falls across the opening and there's a rap on the stall door.

"Lucy?"

Rachel. It's still Rachel.

She swipes the lock back the other direction and lets the door slowly swing open. Past Rachel she can see that next to the sink, there's a folding chair and on the ledge under the mirror are bottles of shampoo and conditioner.

"What... is this?"

"It's my emergency slushie kit. Or, part of it. You don't appear to need my extra sweater, skirt, and socks," Rachel says, taking a look at the uniform Lucy's wearing. "Though, I certainly don't recall you ever being a member of the Cheerios."

"I'm not. Santana- well, Brittany brought this for me. Because Santana told her to get me something to wear."

Rachel nods, as if it's a reasonable enough explanation, and gently grips Lucy's arm in an effort to guide her toward the chair. "It's certainly not a sight I'm accustomed to-"

"-I know, I probably look..." Gross. Disgusting. Fat. These are all the words on the tip of her tongue and she's spent a long time becoming comfortable with herself and who she is and she hates that a single dessert beverage to the face has her digging into layers of insecurities she thought were long buried.

"You just look different. I'm used to seeing you in those clever t-shirts. Well, I assume they're all clever. I sometimes have no idea what they're supposed to mean."

Lucy's sitting in the chair and Rachel's urging her to lean backward until her neck rests against something, maybe a folded up towel, that's placed between her skin and the edge of the sink. Delicate hands remove Lucy's glasses and there's a light click of the plastic frames being set aside on the tile ledge. It's impossible for her to keep her eyes open while Rachel pours warm water over her head and if they weren't already closed, they'd be closed by now. Rachel's working the shampoo into Lucy's hair and it feels so incredible.

In an effort to keep herself from making any embarrassing sounds, Lucy decides to strike up some conversation. "Uh, earlier... were you humming Brand New Day from Dr. Horrible?"

"I was!" Rachel's smile is evident, even though Lucy isn't looking at her. "Sam introduced me to the musical last year and I was just listening to it during my morning routine on the elliptical machine. Singing is a great way to regulate breathing during a workout."

Lucy does her best to picture Rachel working out, but it's just leading to images of Rachel being sweaty and out of breath and that's likely to provoke one of embarrassing sounds she's trying to avoid. "It's one of my favorites," she finally says, though she's so relaxed, she isn't even sure they've actually left her mouth.

They must have, though, because Rachel says, "I'm not at all surprised to hear that. Your Evil League of Evil shirt is one that I do actually understand."

The water turns off and Rachel grips Lucy's shoulder until she's sitting up and then there's a towel rubbing over her hair. She's facing away from the mirror, so she can't see herself, but she already feels better. When the towel-drying comes to a stop, Rachel digs around for something else in a purple backpack that Lucy has just now noticed is also present. She produces a pink and silver hair dryer and before Lucy can insist that it isn't necessary, Rachel's already plugging it in and turning it on.

It's not as if Lucy has anywhere else to be, so she sits there while Rachel Berry blow dries her hair, running a brush through it as she does. When the hair dryer finally clicks off into silence, Lucy realizes she's closed her eyes, again. She feels warm, both inside and out.

"I like the color," Rachel says.

"Huh?"

Rachel laughs. "Your hair." She unplugs the dryer and sets it on the ledge above the sink.

"Oh, right. Thank you." Lucy's cheeks feel as if they're turning pink, but she can easily blame that on the blow drying session. "Tina did it for me."

"Tina's quite ad-" The bell cuts her off.

Lucy stands and shoots a panicked look toward the door and Rachel seems to immediately pick up on it, because she's quick to rush over and lock it.

"What if someone tries to come in?"

Rachel shrugs. "It's been my experience that they ultimately just give up and try a different restroom."

Lucy considers the shampoo and the towel and the blow dryer. "This happens to you a lot?"

"Not as much as it used to. And actually not at all this year. But, it never hurts to be prepared." Rachel begins to pack all of her supplies into the backpack.

"I'm certainly grateful that you were." Lucy folds the chair and wonders where it came from. "Thank you."

"I'm always glad to help a friend," Rachel replies, handing Lucy's glasses to her. She takes the chair and ducks under the sink, sliding the chair beneath the counter until it's leaned against the wall.

"Is that... do you always keep it under there?"

"No one's ever noticed it."

Lucy offers her hand to help Rachel back up. "For how long?"

"Since freshman year." Rachel's hand wraps around Lucy's and she rises from her crouched position.

"That's a long time." Lucy's intensely aware of the moment when Rachel lets go, because it's absolutely the last thing she wants to have happen.

Rachel nods. "It is." She has a slight smile on her lips and Lucy can't quite make out what it means. "Are you going to your next class?"

"I can't." As much as she was floating only a moment ago, dread weighs Lucy right back down. "Not like this."

"Not like what?" Rachel's eyebrows knit in confusion.

"This," Lucy gestures to her body.

"Because of the uniform? I understand that you aren't actually a Cheerio, but Ms. Sylvester isn't even in the state, as far as I understand."

"It's how I look in it, Rachel. I'm... I can't go out like this."

It takes a second or two, but realization spreads across Rachel's face. "You're not comfortable in it." She nods and places her hands on Lucy's shoulders. "Then we're going to get you out of here."

The seriousness and sincerity in Rachel's voice makes Lucy feel as if they're about to escape from prison or a hostage situation or something that isn't the first floor girls room at McKinley High School.

"How?" Lucy asks.

"After the next bell, we'll make a break down the hall to the parking lot. I don't have a car, but I know you do."

"You wouldn't need to come with me for that, you know."

"I... know. But, it's my senior year and I haven't ever really lived on the edge. And, as much as I hate to tarnish a perfect attendance record, I think a little life experience is crucial to honing my craft as a performer." Rachel pauses. "Also, I can always claim a serious case of menstrual cramps and Daddy will sign off on it."

An hour ago, Lucy had resigned herself to staying locked in this bathroom all day and now she's planning to ditch school in a uniform that she's been explicitly told is not to leave the campus, under any circumstances. "Okay," she confirms, with a nod.

Rachel smiles back at her and squeezes her shoulders before letting her arms drop. "And, I know it isn't much but, here." She's back to rummaging through the backpack until she produces a yellow cardigan.

Lucy accepts it, but instead of putting it on her arms, she ties it around her waist, because at least then she has more coverage over the part of her body she's positive is just totally exposed between the stupid split skirt pleats.

"Wait," Lucy says. "My car keys are in my bag. And... it's... I think it's in the hall?"

"I didn't see it out there. Maybe it was reported to Lost and Found?"

Lucy frowns. This means, if they want to leave, she'll have to actually stop and talk to someone. Is it worth it?

She watches as Rachel zips her bag and slips the straps over her shoulders, straightening them as she prepares herself for whatever is about to happen.

Yeah.

It really is.


	8. Chapter 8

They’re holding hands.  
  
Granted, they’re holding hands because Lucy’s mortified that someone’s going to see her like this and since they can’t seem to find her backpack in the hallway, she’s going to have to try the lost and found in the office. Which means she’s going to have to directly speak to someone.  
  
They’re standing around the corner from the office, next to the big case that houses all the school trophies. Rachel looks longingly at it and Lucy glances over her shoulder to try and see exactly what she’s staring at.  
  
“What?” she asks, turning her head back to Rachel.  
  
“I’m just very much hoping we win Nationals this year. It is my senior year, after all.”  
  
Lucy redirects her attention to the case and looks at one of the giant golden trophies inside. “But... you already won last year.”  
  
“That doesn’t mean we should stop. I don’t plan to win only one Tony.” Rachel’s absolutely serious and Lucy’s taken with just how driven Rachel can be.  
  
“That’s a good point.” She clears her throat and takes a glance down the hallway. They can’t stay here forever. “Okay, I’ll go see if they have my bag and then... we’ll go.” Go where, she has no idea. But now that Lucy’s focused on leaving campus, she can’t wait to make the escape with Rachel.  
  
“Just remember, commit to the part and no one will question you.” Rachel’s fingers tighten around Lucy’s hand in a squeeze, then they release.  
  
Lucy nods. “If I’m not back in five minutes, go on without me.” She begins to turn around, but then pivots back. “Don’t really leave without me.”  
  
Rachel grabs Lucy’s shoulders and pushes her back toward the other direction. “Go.” But when once Lucy is just beyond her reach, she says, “Wait!”  
  
“What?” Again, Lucy turns.   
  
“That.” Rachel points to the cardigan wrapped around Lucy’s waist.  
  
“Can’t I just leave it?”  
  
“It will be a much more difficult sell if you compromise the uniform,” Rachel reasons.  
  
Lucy takes a deep breath and tugs the arms of the sweater out of the secure knot she tied only minutes before. Before she can convince herself that it’s the worst idea of all time, she balls up the garment and tosses it to Rachel, who catches it with waiting hands.  
  
And then it’s no turning back.  
  
She strides into the office and walks right up to the counter. She’s cold and nervous and absolutely convinced this will never work, but Rachel insists that it’s foolproof if she can just remain focused.  
  
There’s usually a student aide behind the desk at this time of day, which could make this whole thing easier. It would be a breeze if it were someone Lucy actually got along with, like Lauren Zizes, but of all people, Jacob Ben Israel is the one standing between Lucy and the freedom of the remainder of her day.  
  
“Hi,” Lucy says, “I’m here to see about a missing backpack.”  
  
“Do you have a hall pass?”  
  
It’s time to really turn it (whatever it is) on and hope it works. “Do I look like I need a hall pass?”  
  
Jacob’s eyes narrow. “You’re not on the Cheerios.”  
  
She has to resist every urge in her body to wave her hand in front of his face, Jedi-style. “If I wasn’t a Cheerio, why would I be wearing this? They-- We don’t just let anyone walk around in these uniforms.”  
  
His mouth opens, but he can’t seem to formulate a reply that defies the logic she’s presented. “Can you describe the backpack?”  
  
“It’s that one, right there.” She points past him at a black and white plaid Jansport that’s now featuring an added splotchy blue design.  
  
“Can you provide any proof of identification?”  
  
“There’s a notebook in the side pocket.”  
  
“This is school. That’s, at best, an educated guess and not even a good one.”  
  
“Okay, in the front pocket are two mechanical Bic pencils, a retractable black pen with gel ink, and a regular absorbency tampon with a plastic app--”  
  
“Fine! I get it! It’s yours.” Jacob frowns and quickly retrieves the bag. As he passes it over the counter, he takes a look at Lucy’s uniform. “Do you think they’d let me try out?”  
  
“I think you should definitely try. First thing tomorrow. Five AM.” Lucy generally isn’t spiteful, but the idea of Jacob showing up so early for something that isn’t going to happen is... well, it’s funny. Or it is until she’s three steps from the door and remembering what it’s like to be the one who realizes that they’ve been tricked and that someone else is laughing at their expense. She stops and looks back over her shoulder at him. “They-- we aren’t really having auditions. And the school blog needs your full attention, anyway.”  
  
It’s possible he makes a sound in agreement, but Lucy doesn’t wait. She wants to leave, to get out of this school and out of this uniform and out of sight. Rachel’s peeking out at her from behind the corner by the trophy case. She hurries toward the shorter girl and then they’re both running down the hall toward the side exit.  
  
When they break through the door out into the sunlight, they’re both laughing as they move into the parking lot, but Rachel suddenly grabs Lucy’s arm and drops down behind a car, pulling Lucy with her.  
  
“Oh my god, what?” Lucy watches Rachel with wide eyes. Rachel puts her finger to her lips and carefully peeks up over the hood of the car. Lucy tries to get a look at whatever’s on the other side, but Rachel’s hand lightly slaps against her forehead and pushes her back down.  
  
Finally, Rachel lowers herself back down and says, “Mr. Schue."  
  
Lucy waits for any further explanation, but there isn't one. Instead, Rachel takes another peek and seems to be satisfied that the coast is clear, because they're now darting between cars until they're headed right for her red bug. She fumbles in her bag for her car keys and pushes the unlock button. Rachel giggles as she pulls open the passenger side door and, for the brief few seconds that Lucy is alone, outside of the car, she lets herself recognize that, once again, she feels something tugging at her.   
  
But right now, they need to get off campus before someone sees them.  
  
As she settles into the driver's seat, she runs her hands over her legs. "I don't understand how the Cheerios stay warm."  
  
"I always thought they were possibly genetically modified," Rachel muses as she digs into her bag for something. She passes the cardigan back to Lucy, who actually puts in, for now. "Here, maybe these will help."  
  
She holds out a pair of rainbow striped knee socks and Lucy wastes no time pulling off her shoes to slip the socks up over her calves. "That's a little better, thanks." But, right, they're supposed to be leaving, so she starts the car and exits the parking lot. "Where should we go? I can't... um... I can't go home to change until after one, because my mom will be there. And I don't really feel like explaining any of this."  
  
Rachel nods. "All right. Is there a place you like to go when you need an escape? For me it's Between the Sheets."  
  
"As in... your bed?"  
  
"No," Rachel laughs. "The sheet music store. Though, I've been known to crawl into bed in times when I've felt defeated."  
  
"What, like twice in your life?" Lucy asks.  
  
"It happens more than people would think. I do try to maintain a positive outlook but... there have been days."  
  
Lucy hates the idea of someone like Rachel... or just Rachel, really, ever feeling that low that she'd need to bury herself under the covers. She knows exactly what that's like.   
  
"I like to go to Alter Ego. It's the comic shop," she adds, realizing Rachel probably has no idea what it is.  
  
"Then we should go there."  
  
"You... would go there with me?"  
  
"You valiantly took a slushie to the face this morning. Anywhere you'd like to go, I'm willing to join you."  
  
Lucy's ears are warm, again. "Okay." She has no idea what else to say, so she hands her iPod to Rachel. "You should pick something for the drive over there." It's only ten minutes away, but there's no way she'll be able to have any kind of conversation without embarrassing herself.  
  
And when Rachel picks Fidelity by Regina Spektor, Lucy does her best not to read into any of it, at all.


	9. Chapter 9

When Lucy parks in front of Alter Ego, she's reluctant to shut off the car, because Rachel's singing along with Sara Bareilles and she really hates to interrupt, so she opts to let the song play out and watch the girl in the seat next to her. After the chorus, Rachel turns the radio down smiles at her.

"We can go in. I'm always singing and if you're waiting for me to be finished, we'll never leave."

Lucy has to remind herself that saying she'd be absolutely okay watching Rachel sing along to her iPod for any given amount of time is probably not an okay response, so she twists the key and removes it from the ignition, silencing the engine and the radio. She looks down at herself and sighs. "You really think I should go in there, like this?" It's not as terrifying as it is at school, because the shop will be almost empty of people and whoever's working behind the counter isn't going to care, but she still doesn't love the idea of being dressed like this in public.

"You could take the socks off," Rachel suggests.

"It's not the socks I'm worried about." Lucy bats at the pleats that rest on her lap. 

"Perhaps they'll think it's some kind of costume? Isn't that something comic fans do? Costume play?"

"Cos play? Yeah. But... who am I supposed to be?"

Rachel takes a moment to look her over. "Gay punk cheerleader?"

"That's not..." Lucy shakes her head as she laughs and readjusts her glasses.

"I think you pull it off rather well." Rachel glances out the window at the storefront. "Shall we?"

Seriously, who does Rachel think she is, talking like this? 

Lucy begins to speak before she allows herself the chance to actually think about what she’s saying. “Sometimes, you remind me of someone out of a classic movie. Judy Garland, maybe.”

“Really?” The way Rachel’s smiling at her fills Lucy up with what can only be described as brightness. “That’s possibly one of the best compliments anyone’s ever paid me.”

When Lucy steps out of the car and rushes around to Rachel's door to open it for her, she doesn't care who sees her in this outfit. "I believe the shop awaits us," she says, waving her arm in a grand flourish as Rachel emerges from the passenger seat. 

Rachel's hand slips through the crook of Quinn's elbow and they enter the comic store arm in arm. 

Mack's behind the counter and she's someone Lucy knows fairly well from the teen center. While Lucy was struggling with being gay and briefly homeless, Mack was sixteen and pregnant. They aren't best friends or anything, but they talk enough for Lucy to know she's on independent study so she can work to support her son, Patrick.

"Hey, Luce. Nice look."

Lucy shakes her head. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I was talking about the hair. But..." Mack peeks around the counter to take in Lucy's current state of dress. "Now I want the details. I don't think I've ever seen you show that much leg."

"It's not anything I'm doing voluntarily. And... stop looking at me!" Lucy laughs as Mack continues to overtly leer at her.

"I think it's the socks that are doing it for me."

Lucy steps up to the counter and leans against it, cutting off Mack's view of her lower half. "Do you still have the latest Astonishing X-Men in stock?"

Mack shakes her head. "Nope. Told you you should have picked it up when you were here last week."

There's a clatter and Rachel scrambles to pick something up off the floor. It's just an action figure from the DC display, but Rachel has a panicked look in her eye, as if she's just desecrated some kind of graphic novel relic.

"This is... my friend, Rachel."

"Rachel," Mack gives Rachel a once-over. "I haven't seen you in here."

"This is my first foray into this particular establishment. I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name and I don't believe Lucy has ever mentioned you." There’s a casual coolness to Rachel that Lucy hasn’t really experienced before.

“Wow, retract the claws, Catwoman," replies Mack. "I’m not after your date.”

"We're not--" Lucy beings, but there's something about the way Rachel's hand is still resting on her arm. Are they on a date?

"Besides, if I'd wanted a piece of Lucy's sweet bookish ass, I would have jumped on it a long time ago." Lucy's just confused, but Rachel looks almost offended on her behalf. "She's cute, she's just not packing enough below the belt to really interest me. Unless you're like those girls in some of that intense anime shit."

Rachel glances at Lucy, looking for a translation. "What do those girls ha--"

Lucy shakes her head. "I'm not really into that much ani--"

"Huge dicks." Mack smirks at both of them, but someone else enters the shop, so she has to cut her gloating short as she moves down the counter and addresses the new customer.

"Uh," Lucy knows her face is red. She's surprised her glasses aren't fogging up from the heat of her skin.

"You could show me the stuff you are into," Rachel suggests, pulling them away from the counter.

A slow sigh of relief exits Lucy's lungs. "Okay, well... I was asking about the latest Astonishing X-Men, which is a series I really like."

"That's the one with Hugh Jackman."

"Yes. Well, kind of." She considers going into a detailed history of the X-Men franchise, but that would require just as much of a presentation as what Rachel's already shown her about herself. They're walking right toward the shelves full of games, which reminds Lucy that she needs to find out if Lauren's hosting another D&D tournament this winter.

Rachel traces her fingertips along the brightly colored boxes. "This all looks very involved."

"It is," Lucy agrees. "Do you like board games? I mean, not these necessarily."

"I do. We have family game night every couple of weeks. I'm better at trivia games than something like Monopoly, but I particularly shine at Encore or charades."

"That's not really a surprise."

"You should come over this weekend." It's abrupt, the invitation.

But Lucy's already nodding. "I'd like that." The shop isn't very big and, as much as Lucy could spend all afternoon filing through the boxes of back issues, she doesn't want to bore her friend (date?). "I'm getting hungry." It's not even a half-truth.

"Where should we go? We should probably stay away from anywhere our parents might frequent. I don't know about your mother, but my fathers both work in town."

"You're right. Um," Lucy mentally reviews the local options. "Maybe you should pick, because you know what places have food you can eat."

"We could just go to my house. No one's home."

"Are you sure that's okay?"

"Of course." Rachel smiles at her and Lucy's fairly certain her heart might actually beat its way out of her chest before the end of the day.

Once they're inside the Berry house and Rachel assures her that her fathers are never home before four in the afternoon on a weekday, Lucy sits, relaxed, on a tall stool next to the kitchen island. "Are you sure you don't want help?"

"Sandwiches I can handle, thank you." Rachel already has the bread laid out on plates with the organic peanut butter and jam jars placed next to them. She twists the lid off the peanut butter, but the strawberry jam seems to be giving her difficulty. Even though she's just been told that Rachel doesn't need assistance, Lucy casually extends her hand and Rachel sheepishly passes her the jar. It's a little stubborn, but Lucy's able to loosen the lid and remove it. She hands it back without saying a word. Rachel's teeth release her bottom lip as she says, "Thanks."

It's a nice, peaceful lunch, especially once Rachel turns on the radio. They don't say much, because it's kind of hard to converse with peanut butter in your mouth. Under the counter, though, Rachel's foot keeps bumping against Lucy's and Lucy returns each and every tap with one of her own. It carries on while the listen to the newest Adele single, but when the song switches, Rachel starts to giggle.

"What?" Lucy asks, feigning deep interest in the remaining crust of her sandwich. But the corners of her mouth are twitching upward. She tries to cover it up by drinking the rest of her apple juice, but that only works until the glass is empty.

Rachel's leaning with an elbow resting on the island and her head on her hand. Another nudge of her foot knocks against Lucy's. Instead of swinging her foot back to retaliate, Lucy pushes her elbow against Rachel's arm. Rachel responds with the same, which escalates to Lucy lightly swatting at Rachel with her hand, but Rachel raises her own to deflect it and wraps her fingers around Lucy's.

And just like that, they're sitting with their fingers intertwined, hands resting on the counter top.

Maybe it really is a date? Lucy's about to ask, to get a little definition, but as she opens her mouth, there's another sound.

It's the front door opening. And it's followed by, "Hello? Rachel? Anyone home?"

Rachel's eyes go wide. "Daddy?"


End file.
